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And Then There Were Two

My beautiful Tabitha died today. She was 15 and had been my companion for 13 years.

When death comes naturally at the end of a good life and there is time to prepare for it, my grief at the loss is not lessened, but I have no trouble accepting this natural occurrence. I’m grieving tonight, but I’m okay. Ms. Cinnamon took good care of me.

I noticed last summer that Tabitha was beginning to feel poorly, so I took her to the vet for a full workup. Everything that could be checked for with routine tests — diabetes, thyroid, kidneys, liver, worms, etc. came back okay for a cat her age. She did have a slight bladder infection, which cleared up with a week’s worth of antibiotics.

She continued to decline in the next months, eating less and less, losing weight, and growing increasingly lethargic. I could tell her kidneys were shutting down.

When I adopted her in 2000, I was warned that because of major health issues in her kittenhood, she would not be a long-lived cat. The vet estimated that with proper care and a housebound existence, she might make it to nine or 10. She has far exceeded her life expectancy and she has had a good, rich life. She has been well cared for and cherished. I don’t believe in extreme measures. As long as she wasn’t in any pain, I was willing to let nature take its course.

She stopped eating in the last few days, but she was still happy to see me and cuddled, enjoyed sunbeams, and was able to get up and down from the bed in the back (forget the loft, she hasn’t climbed up there in weeks). I waited for her to tell me it was time.

When I got in tonight from a day out, she was just staring blankly at me and I barely got a purr out of her. She was breathing very heavily. I made a quick Google search and called a vet to ask about bringing her in.

You would think that a Saturday night would be the worst night for this decision to have to be made, but the Hillside Veterinary Clinic is open 24/7 and does not charge anything extra for after hours or weekends. The receptionist was wonderful and took me at my word that it was time to put Tabitha to sleep. She told me to bring her right in and that they would fit her in ASAP.

I had tried the shelter a couple of days ago to get information and the woman there was quite rude and said that Tabitha would have to have a full panel of tests before they would agree to put her down. Hillside did not question that I have been a good mom and was making the decision because it needed to be made.

The entire staff, including Dr. Smith who gave her the final injection, was compassionate. The cost was $75 plus $12.50 for disposal; the same price quoted by the shelter. I was allowed to be with her to the end while I would have had to surrender her to the shelter. I am so grateful that I ended up needing to make the decision late on a Saturday and had really no choice but to go to Hillside because I couldn’t imagine a better place for it to have happened.

My darling girl traveled the continent with me. We lived in five homes together and have had short stays in motels as well as my parents’ homes. In 13 years, she was only  kenneled once. In 13 years, I  lived at least six different lives and had as my only constant this raven beauty with piercing golden eyes.

From the first moment she laid eyes on me with those windows to her precious soul, I was her person. Aggressive and shy  with others, she always loved me. We slept together most nights of the last 13 years and could communicate efficiently. She was my girl and I loved her so much. Oh, how I will miss her.

The void in the rig is palpable tonight. Neelix seems to sense my grief. I am focusing on honouring her life.

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2013 RV Owners Lifestyle Seminar

Late June, I’ll be talking about my trip this winter at the RV Owners Lifestyle Seminar in Kelowna, BC. This is the third time I’ve been invited and I knew if I said no again, I’d never get another chance.

From the topics page:

The presenter will share tips on how to find free or inexpensive places to park your RV, whether it be overnight or for several weeks, by providing examples and resources from her 2012-2013 trip through several states, including Louisiana and Texas.

I’m really excited to attend the seminar as it sounds like a really fun weekend. That said, it has thrown my summer completely off kilter. This is a volunteer gig, so I’m not sure yet how I’ll finance all that time off to prepare and attend the seminar. I am thinking of looking for sponsors, although I have no idea of how to go about doing that.

The RV Owners Lifestyle Seminar is like attending RV College for a long weekend, with lots of things to learn and plenty of opportunities for socializing. If you’re thinking of being in BC this summer, maybe as you’re heading up to Alaska, you might want to squeeze this event into your calendar.

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The Sinking Ferry

Last night, I had a particularly vivid waking dream in which I was on a ferry with every single RVer I know both virtually and offline. We were on the passenger deck and our rigs were below. The ferry was sinking slowly. Our rigs were goners.

I floated amongst the group listening to everyone’s reactions. Most of the part-timers were fairly nonchalant about the whole thing since they had insurance. The full-timers, one in particular, were hysterical that their entire lives were about to disappear into a watery abyss, yelling at the part-timers that they just didn’t understand what our rigs mean to us.

It was fascinating.

I stayed out of it until we were given permission to go down to our rigs one last time for about 10 minutes and take what we could carry only.

I go through that exercise in my mind frequently and it was interesting to actually do it.

I put together the cat carriers, wrangled the babies in them, and put the phone, iPad and iPod in my purse with their cables. I still had five minutes left, so I grabbed a backpack and put my computer, chargers, and hard drives in it, cushioned with some clothes. I made sure to switch to practical shoes, added a layer, wrapped a scarf around my neck, heaved the backpack on, put the purse strap around my shoulders,  grabbed a carrier in each hand, and walked out of my beloved home forever.

I awoke wondering yet again about how much ‘stuff’ I really need. Yes, five years later, I’m still Sorting It Out.

Compared to a lot of people, I’m practically a minimalist (but I would never consider myself one!) and compared to others, I’m a hoarder. These comparisons are, of course, pointless, but do reveal that since I am still struggling with my possessions, my decluttering journey is not over.

Right now, I have the perfect amount of stuff to fill this RV in such a way that all the storage space is utilized, but it is not all overflowing and everything is easily reached. I’m organized!

I’ve reached the stage of decluttering where the exercise seems almost pointless. I use everything I own, I have space to store everything I own, I can easily access everything I own, and I know where everything I own is. Why do I still get the urge to keep downsizing?

This answer is that the life I’m currently living won’t be my last. Even before I started RVing, I knew what the next stage would be, and that would be an extremely minimalist existence traveling around the world with just a bag. The idea of being free of the endless cycle of domesticity will be a reward after a long journey of mostly conventional living.

Right now, my cats require me to have a stable home base. It makes sense that, in the twilight of their years, I continue to indulge my nesting instincts and get the idea of ‘home’ right for once so that I can move on and follow other dreams later. But I can’t lose sight of the vision I have for my post-RVing years.

So I keep decluttering, simplifying, reducing. When the day comes that I find myself alone, I won’t need to waste time getting ready for the next phase of my life.

But there’s no need to rush there. I’m enjoying this life, cluttered as is it, too much.

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I Ain’t Ever Movin’ Again

There are lot of RVers I follow or have met recently who are buying their first rig, changing rigs, moving into boats, or heading back into stick houses.

I look around Miranda and think of how much work I’ve put into making her as near to a perfect home on wheels as I could make with my resources. All I can say is that unless something really major happens, I ain’t ever movin’ again!!! I don’t think I could do this once more!

This is the longest I have lived in one space in my adult life and I have zero desire to move. Sure, I sometimes look at other rigs and wonder ‘what if’, who doesn’t, but it’s never serious. I now know that unless Mr. Perfect comes along, Miranda is going to be my only RV.

She is getting on with years, but has less than 62,000 miles / 100,000KM on the odo and has been well maintained. She can last a good while longer. The interiors has been so carefully tailored to my needs that I am not likely to outgrow her unless, of course, my family expands.

I do imagine that I will eventually redecorate (and even have the new colour scheme all planned out!), but that will be a few more years down the line. For now, I’m really enjoying my cheery pink, yellow, and green.

Yes, there is money to be put into this rig, there always will be, but I really don’t see any point in changing, especially since I’m fairly certain I would have a difficult time selling Miranda considering how much I’ve customized her.

Peace and rest at length have come. All the days long toil is past, and each heart is whispering, Home, home at last.